


In A Week

by spdervrses



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Dick Grayson/Kory Anders - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Found Family, Soulmate AU, dickkory - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spdervrses/pseuds/spdervrses
Summary: Dick Grayson and Kory Anders are lovers blessed -- or cursed,however one may see it -- with eternity. They have been forced to, for centuries, find one another over and over again. And without fail, to lose each other. Whether by suicide, or murder or an accident, there is no version of their star crossed love that has ended well for the two. Luck, it seems, has never been on their side. Not until the summer of '93. When the wanted fugitive who breaks into her home turns out to wear the same face that she's seen in her dreams since her 20th birthday.
Relationships: Dick Grayson x Kory Anders, DickKory
Comments: 19
Kudos: 33





	1. Wolf at Your Door

She dreams in black and white; darkness shrouds the shadows of her subconscious. Her mind is, once again, her greatest weakness, weak and easily manipulated as she drifts away. She has no way of knowing but she's sure that her body is immobilized in her bed, arms frozen at her side, her eyes wide open as she stares in nothingness. There should be no way for her to know that, but these days, more so than before, her mind takes her by surprise.

Kory Anders might be asleep, but she's more alive than she's been in weeks. The scene in her mind unfolds within seconds before she has time to grasp it. It is her, her dark skin adorned in a long sheer dress that is see-through, leaving nothing to the imagination. On her wrists and neck, she's adorned in jewels of all kind, not gaudy but subtle and visible all at once. She reeks of royalty, nobility evident in the way that she carries herself. It doesn't linger on this scene for too long, but she's quick enough to grasp snatches of it.

She mentally files it away for later inspection. Her body is seated on a throne carved from the most beautiful wood and it's clear that this is a position that she's born to take. There is no doubt whatsoever in her mind that whatever this is, she's in charge. There's an air of superiority to her. The guards that flank either side of her only add to the impression. Her eyes — or whoever's perspective she's looking through — shifts to the guard at the end of the corridor. The rest look away with obvious respect — and fear too – but this guard stares at her openly with brazen defiance, or perhaps foolishness.

The scene shifts again, and the same guard occupies her view. Except that this time he's not on the other side of the room. He's above her, straddling her hips with his legs on either side of her form. His chest is bare, every part of him is — and so is she, for that matter — and his hands trail her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She gasps aloud, and his mouth captures it, his fist closing lightly around her neck, and there is nothing else between them but desire, heat and open unabashed carnal longing. Love, too. There's love between them, and she has no idea how she comes to a conclusion, but she's certain of it. More certain than she's ever been of anything in her life.

There's love in her eyes as well as she yells angry, pained screams out in the open. On either side of her, is a guard, those who were tasked with protecting her, keeping her bound by the arms. She fights against them with open rage and determination, but there are tears falling freely down her face. In front of her, the guard, the man that she loves is bound to a stake, his arms behind him and they set fire to the wood. It spreads quickly, ravenous and hungry, the flames, as they lick up his skin, determined to consume. His glassy eyes stay open the entire time, his gaze trained on the love of his life even as he takes his last breath. Her throat is sore from screaming, and she's wailing now, fighting exhaustion and pain, every part of her wishing that she could close her eyes, and this would all disappear.

He uses the last of his breath to utter strained words, the sounds nearly mute in the chaos of it all. "In the next one, my love."

The light in his eyes go out all at once as she watches his flesh melt and disfigure before charring and finally, become ashes. It seems they are doomed for the same fate as the very same fire seems to consume her, despite being nowhere in contact with him. Her eyes flash, a dangerous red, the flames seem to be born from the core of her as her own skin is set ablaze, the fire that she radiates dangerous and uncontrollable. The guards around her are the first to take the impact, doomed to the same fate of her love. And then she follows suit in an inferno that goes out just as quickly as it was born, leaving nothing behind and sparing no soul.

Kory jerks awake with a start. The smell of charred flesh overwhelms her senses. The words that the man had uttered ring loud and clear in her mind.

In the next one, my love.

Despite the fact that she has dreams like this almost regularly every other night, her heart still beats uncontrollably in her chest, beads of sweat lining her hairline. One would think that having these strange dreams – or visions, depending on how she chose to look at it – every single night would make it easier to deal with as time went on, but the effects only seemed become more amplified over time. It felt like a beacon that was drawing her close to something. Whatever that was, she couldn't figure out for the life of her.

Although every doctor or psychologist that her mother has dragged her to over the years had confirmed that her dreams were just that. The results of a hyperactive imagination. Although one psychiatrist specifically had tried to convince her that it was a symptom of mental illness. Two months before she'd lost her license. Still, her dreams rarely felt like just dreams, and there were moments when she allowed herself to be free enough that the images became so lucid that she felt as if she was on the brink of an entirely different existence, the only thing standing in her way being her mind.

One thing was constant throughout the years, though, her and the strange man.

Just as Kory's beginning to get a hold of her sanity, a loud crash brings her attention back to reality, her nerves on edge suddenly and the blood flowing through her providing her with adrenaline. She pauses for a moment and waits for one of her staff, whoever must have been responsible for the crash to call out or apologize. Nothing comes. Instead, she's met with silence and what sounds like the shuffling of feet in the distance.

She's alert all at once as she jerks awake. There had only been a burglary in the manor before, and that had been years ago. Since then she'd tightened security making it nearly impossible for anybody to get in unless she specifically asked for that. But this does not put her mind at rest. What if somebody has managed to get in while her staff or security are all gone?

She takes out her phone dialing the number for the security that she keeps on hand at all times. She gives it one ring and then another before she ends the call. It takes her a moment to get into the room in her bedroom, hiding behind masses of clothes. In a small box in the back is a gun. The one that her father had given her the day that she'd turned eighteen and taught her to use until she could shoot well enough to protect herself if she ever needed it. She'd never needed to use it before but she sure as hell knows how to aim and pull the trigger.

Her heart is in her throat as she lightly makes her way out of her room, keeping it locked behind her. She should be absolutely terrified – and she is – but there is also adrenaline pumping through her like golden ichor in her veins, and everything else feels secondary. The dream that woke her from her slumber, the fact that all of her staff are nowhere to be found.

She hears it before she sees it, the shuffle of feet against the ground. It's hurried and urgent, and something about it makes her heart leap into her throat. But one could never tell the way that she holds her stance, her gun in one hand poised on top of the other. She doesn't want to have to use it. She's never shot anyone, but ever since the last time that somebody broke into her home in an attempt to kill her, she doesn't take any chances anymore.

Kory can only assume that whoever is in her home is too busy – or perhaps she's just quieter than she thinks – because they don't seem to see her coming when she calls out quietly to the frame of a person. Her voice is a low rumble that seems to come from the deepest part of her, steady and assertive. She almost doesn't recognize it. "Turn around where you are and put your hands in the air." The burglar stops right into their tracks. "I want to see them now. Or I'll shoot. I promise."

Her hand holding the gun trembles as she says it, but she cradles it in her opposite hand hoping that the other person doesn't notice. "Hands in the air." Their hands go up. They're long and slender, his fingers and in his hand, he holds a silver wedding band woven together intricately, and there's a gem in the center of it. Her mother's ring that happens to cost millions of dollars.

How he's managed to get it out of the safe, she can't possibly fathom. And she doesn't have the time to.

"Now turn around. Slowly. If you try anything funny, I'll bury a bullet in your hand." She's bluffing, of course, but he doesn't know that.

He's turning suddenly, his slender figure with compact muscle underneath his all-black attire. He has a hood over his head, but when he turns around, his face is visible even in the dark lighting of her home. She's frozen suddenly. Unable to move or think. Every part of her suddenly awake. She can only form a single word. "How?"

In her moment of disorientation, the thief seems to see an opportunity. He notes her slack features, and he's moving suddenly with an athlete's agility before she can form a single thought. It's out of instinct only that she pulls the trigger of the gun in her hand. It releases a small bullet that she can hardly see and lodges itself into his shoulder. She sees it make contact and hears him cry out, but he doesn't stop as he's suddenly out the window and she makes no effort to follow him, her entire world coming to a stop.

Because the face of the man is the same one that she's been seeing in her dreams since the day she turned twenty.


	2. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kory and Dick cross paths again and strike a deal

A woman of her resources and reach is not to be crossed. Over the next few weeks, every waking moment is spent seething in anger as to how a burglar had managed to break into her home with her million-dollar security system without triggering so much as a single alarm and managing to make off her with her mother's million-dollar ring. But there's confusion as well. She can't think of a single explanation as to why that man's face has been haunting her for half her life. And what exactly is the connection? How do her dreams – or nightmares, she's taking to calling them – relate to this incident?

Whatever the reason, she decides she'll find it. After all, she has access to the world's best detectives and powerful people in high places at her disposal. She chooses not to involve the police, giving herself the leeway to do whatever she has to do without them in her way. Besides, whoever this man is, the police have not had any success in finding him before. Who says they'll be of any help to her now?

Besides, whoever this man is, she has some personal stake in this now. And she no intention of allowing him to slip from her grip, not when she's come this close.

In the time since the burglary, she's doubled security, hired twice as many guards and put just as many in charge of finding the man. She has no idea how they intend to, but she doesn't give much care to her methods. All that matters is that they manage to find the man who has been plaguing her dreams for years. It's the most curious thing too. She hasn't dreamt once since the incident. Regularly, she's grown to expect her dreams tugging at her conscious the very moment that her head hits the pillow but since then, it's been complete radio silence.

It's nearly disconcerting.

His face in her dreams for better or for worse has become a staple in her slumber and dare she say, a comfort. Strange as it is, he feels more familiar to her than herself. She feels as if after what feels like lifetimes with him, she would be able to recognize his soul anywhere.

Whatever it is, Kory has no desire to be in the dark. She wants answers and she will get them, even if it is the last thing that she does.

It is completely by fate and nothing else, however, that she stumbles upon him. Or Killian does, to be more specific. Bruised and battered with deep cuts carved into his skin, blood spilling over from them like wine. Unconscious and half dead. It seems that whoever left him in that position had simply figured that he would die eventually. They'd never counted on the fact that there just might be somebody who would take interest in the man.

But she does. Killian recognizes his face from the sketch that she had made and brings him into the manor. Cleans him and fixes him up. It's not perfect but he looks somewhat presentable and no longer half dead so it has to be an improvement.

He is unconscious for two hours before he wakes up. Dick wakes up to the wrinkled face of an older man leaning over his, a light shining in his face. Shortly after, is a woman. The one from the other night. At the sight of her, his breath becomes a hard pebble in his throat that he struggles to push down. She's dressed differently now. No longer in thin nightgown, she'd donned the night before, she's clad in a satin blouse and pants that are looser at the bottom. Comfortable enough to be at home in and serious enough that intimidates him. In nothing but black sweatpants and a bandage over his side, it works. Even if it's just a little.

"Are the conditions here to your satisfaction?" His eyes move from Killian to her at the sound of her voice, his eyes trained on her. Her steps are short and calculated, as she takes the moment to study him as best as she can. He doesn't seem all that harmless for a robber, vigilante who broke into her home, but she doesn't let her guard down. It would be a mistake to underestimate him.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the Anders manor." She pauses. "It should be rather familiar to you, considering that you did try to break into it."

He shakes his head, his expression blank. "I didn't—I don't even know—"

"I have you on tape. There are cameras. There's no point in lying." She inhales deeply. "I think that you and I might benefit more in this situation by being honest."

He looks uncomfortable on her couch. His upper half is bare, his shirt discarded on the other side. Her eyes are drawn to the bandage over the bullet wound instantly. Kory is grateful for Killian once again. He's been around for more than half of her life and never has he not been available when she needs him. She's particularly grateful for his broad knowledge and strange assortment of skills. She doesn't think that she would have been able to take out the bullet without causing him to bleed out. And she can't have that. Kory Anders needs Dick Grayson alive.

"And that situation would that be?" he asks, his voice soft. His eyes still don't leave her. Dick's fingers are threaded, his hands clasped.

"Well, the situation where I have video evidence of you breaking into my home and stealing from me and the police might get their hands on it." His eyes go wide suddenly and he's sitting at alert. "Unless you answer a few questions for me."

There is a tick in his jaw. His calm demeanour slips slightly and there is a scowl on his face, his eyes going cold only for a moment. For that moment, there is something of recognition that she feels. This man sitting before her is much more similar to the one in her dreams. But it passes nearly as quickly as it happened. He's wearing a calm expression now, but she can see through it.

And he can see through the blank, serious expression on her face.

"Ask away then, princess."

She raises her brow at the name. "Heiress, actually."

He nods at her and sucks in oxygen through his teeth. His brows are raised, and his expression is one of sarcasm. "Right." It's a soft tone. When he blinks, his lashes brush against his cheeks.

Kory Anders breaks her stare. "I need you to answer a few questions for me, Dick Grayson." She doesn't sit. She feels more in control this way and she can't stand to lose control. "For starters, is your name really Dick Grayson?"

He wears a dumbfounded expression. "That's what you wanted to ask me?"

"Just answer the question."

"You did your research, didn't you?" She doesn't answer. She doesn't have to. They both know the answer. "Richard John Grayson." He lifts his fingers to his head in a mock salute. The motion draws a wince from his lips.

John. The name is familiar.

It's just the two of them now as Kilian has long since retreated to deal with another matter in the manor, leaving her with him. The Dick Grayson sitting before her is nothing like the variations that she's seen in her sleep. In her dreams, he has been sullen and angry, calm and soft-spoken. This Dick Grayson; she can't decide what to make of him. She can tell that he's uncomfortable here although he does his best to seem calm. He's out of his element, she can tell, and that puts him on edge.

They both want control.

She picks her next words carefully. "And do I seem familiar to you, Dick?" She avoids his eyes strategically, placing her sights on the space above his head. Kory doesn't know what to expect. She doesn't even know what she wants to hear. And what will she do when he hears it?

"I don't understand."

"And you're likely not to for a long time but I need you to just go along with it for now. Humour me, please."

Dick Grayson stares at her, his eyes raking over her in a curious manner. His calm demeanour has fallen away to something else entirely. Green eyes train on her dark eyes, a stark contrast between the two. Dick swears that for a moment. It feels like he knows her. There is something familiar and haunting about the woman. He can't decide what it is.

"No, not really," he answers. "I mean, I had to do a bit of research of my own to figure out who you are, but I don't think I've seen you before."

Kory's eyes narrow at him. His brows are raised. There is an invisible standoff between the two, both of them walking on eggshells around the other, dancing to a waltz that only they can hear. It leads them back and forth leaning them over the edge, standing at the edge of the blade and brings them back.

"You feel familiar to me, Dick Grayson." Her words cut through the silence like a knife. She says it without much emotion. It's not a confession of any kind. Instead, she's relaying information to him. "Your face. Since I was eighteen, I've dreamt about you. I have literally seen your face in my dreams every night and at the end of each one, there's death. Either you or I die."

Great. So, she's crazy.

"You dream about me?" he tries with a cocked brow.

Kory cuts her eyes at him in a dismissive manner, her attention piqued by a loud noise from the next room. Whatever she needs, or is attempting to find, somehow, she doesn't think she'll be getting it out of him tonight. But Kory does no plan on dismissing this, not when she's come this close. Not when she can feel the beginnings of something forming. She turns on her heel.

"Killian will be back in a few minutes to show you to a room."

"I don't understand." He stands so that he's level with her. "You can't keep me here against my will."

"No, I can't but I can offer you a better option because it seems to me that you don't exactly have a permanent place to say seeing as you're a wanted man. I'm offering you a place to stay, completely free of charge."

"Generous," he snips at her. "And how exactly does this help you? Because I doubt that a woman like you simply does things like this out of the kindness of her heart."

Kory ignores the woman like you dig—how he perceives her is the least of her worries—and turns her head so that she's staring at him. "Don't be confused. My reasons here are purely selfish and nothing else. I need answers and so far, the only clue that I have is you. So, I plan to keep you around for just a bit more. And if that gives you protection, then that sounds like a win to me."

It seems that for once in their short interaction, she's managed to catch him off guard. He watches her with narrowed eyes and parted lips, a wispy curl falling into his face. Kory takes a step towards him, closing the gap between them. She uses her index finger to brush the strands of hair from his face. Dick Grayson's breath visibly catches in his throat and she smiles. Her tone is velvet, soft and smooth.

"And if you even think about stealing anything else, I'll have your nails pulled from your fingers."


End file.
